For the Love of an Enemy
by altairi
Summary: This fanfic is set seven years after Harry's graduation from Hogwarts and four years after Lord Voldemort's final downfall. Sort-of sequel to "Only In The Dead Of Night".


Disclaimer: All characters and places from the Harry Potter books are the creation of Mrs J.K.Rowling. This fanfic is not written for monetary profit, but for fun only.

A/N: This fanfic is set seven years after Harry's graduation from Hogwarts and four years after Lord Voldemort's final downfall. 

--Altair

_**For the Love of an Enemy**_

Through me you pass into the city of woe:  
Through me you pass into eternal pain:  
Through me among the people lost for aye.  
Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd:  
To rear me was the task of power divine,  
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.  
Before me things create were none, save things  
Eternal, and eternal I endure.  
All hope abandon ye who enter here.  
(The Inferno, from "The Divine Comedy" by Dante Alighieri)

I only left because I had no other choice. Had the circumstances been another, we could have shared a wonderful life. But they weren't other and so I was forced to leave him behind for our safety. For his, as much as ours. Why do I keep saying *ours* over and over again, you ask? Because I was pregnant. I had only found out a week before and had been waiting for the perfect moment to tell him. But the perfect moment never came and so I left, without letting him know. Maybe it was even better this way. He would never have let me go, had he known about our baby. Leaving him – it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. And now, that the danger was over and we could return safely to my homeland, what would be waiting us? Would he still be there for me, or had he found another in these years? Oh, yes, you heard me right, it had been years, since I left England, years, since I heard last from him. I was afraid of going back, of facing him after all these years. What would he say? Would he accuse me of breaking his heart? Would he be angry? What would he say, meeting our child? Would he even be willing to meet him? All these questions in my mind didn't make it any easier.

I had been shocked, finding out about my parents. They had died, leaving me behind as a wealthy young woman. A single mother. They had been outraged when they first found out about my pregnancy. I had refused to tell them, who the father was. In the end, I told them that it had been their favourite son-in-law-candidate. That had resulted in my being sent away, to France, to get me away from the man who had been 'using me, and then leaving'. I hadn't told them the truth, of course. The father was another man. The man I loved. But my parents would have killed him, had they known. They would have killed me and my baby too, I think. But now they were gone. They had never come to see their daughter and grandson in exile. Somehow, I was thankful for that. My son had the eyes of his father; my parents would have guessed my lie the moment they'd have seen him. But they couldn't harm him, anymore. They had been killed by Aurors, I had heard. They had been trying to escape through a secret passageway in our manor, after the Aurors had found some secret stock of Dark Arts stuff on a raid. I missed them, even though they had been dark mages. They had been my parents!

And now I was here, on my way back home. But it would never be the same again. The manor – home – it would be so full of memories. My parents… They had been killed there. How was I to live in a house where my parents had been killed? How was I to raise my child in such a house? I really didn't know what I would do after reaching home again. And one question was crossing my mind over and over again. What would he do when he saw me? When he saw us? When he saw his son? Would he be mad at me for never telling him about his son? And – what, if he didn't believe me? I couldn't, I wouldn't let me think of this! And yet another question came up in my mind. What, if he had got married? Could this be? This thought brought my wandering mind back to the reality. I looked down on the five years old boy, whose head was resting on my knees in his peaceful slumber. I wished, we could have stayed in this moment forever. Things would never be the way they were, again. And I was terrified of the future, now more than ever. England had never been a good place to be a single mother. Too old-fashioned. Too traditional. This was going to be tough, but I'd had to make it. For his son. For our son. For MY son…

Chapter 1

"Mommy, are we there yet?"

Two big children's eyes were searching mine. Those innocent eyes. My heart was melting every time I looked into those eyes. We were in England now, sitting in the family carriage on our way back home. Home? Was this really still my home? I supposed, it was. I didn't expect anyone to show up to welcome us. I hadn't told anyone about our arrival, wanting some time to get accustomed to the house again, to give my son time to get familiar with the place where I had grown up. We were not there yet. Not exactly. We were on the grounds, yes, but it still took another hour or so until we reached the house itself. For a moment, just for a splitter of a moment, I spotted a little girl running between the trees in the park, smiling. A memory from years ago. Me – as a child – so carefree and young. And I knew that Jamie would like it here. He'd have all these grounds to play. A child's dream. How did I know? I grew up here, I surely mentioned this before! Daydreaming again, wasn't I? Oh, yes, of course I was. And I was being dragged back to the real world by someone tucking on my robe's sleeve and asking demandingly: "Are we?"

I looked at him again. He was being so impatient. Ever since we set our feet on English ground. "Not quite," I answered his question. "We're almost there, though. This park belongs to the manor. You'll be able to play here as much as you like, imagine that. I used to play here myself when I was still a little girl, you know? You'll just have to grow a little more before you can do that." Two big and surprised eyes looked deep into mine. "Then you must have been very rich, Mommy!" It was hard to hold back laugh, seeing his dead-serious face. So I did the next best thing that popped in my head – I hugged him tight, laughing. "Yes, Jamie, we were."

I was able to hold him like that for about half a minute before he began to fight the embrace. "I can't breathe, Mommy," I heard his little voice complaining. He always did this. It's a boys' thing, I think. Most of them don't like to be hugged. He made an attempt to escape my arms – and succeeded. He always did. I never told him, that I only pretended to wrestle and hold him back. Each time he succeeded in wrestling himself free from my arms, he seemed to radiate with proud. I wouldn't take that from him. I looked at him taking his seat by the window again and looking out of it. Like a little lord, observing his grounds. He seemed to have inherited this from my parents. They, also, seemed to have this aristocratic aura surrounding them. I wondered what his father was like at his age. Was Jamie anything like him? I sure hoped he was. Even though I hadn't seen him in six years, I still loved him. I had since… It seemed like forever. We had been still in school, back then. All this sneaking around to spend some time in each other's company, avoiding being seen by our friends… It seemed like a distant memory now, even though it couldn't have been more than eight years ago. And now I didn't even know what had become of him. My parents had never mentioned him in their letters and I really hadn't dared to ask myself.

Jamie had spotted the first buildings now. He turned to me. "Mommy, is that our house?" I told myself not to laugh. "No," I answered. "It's only the stables." Jamie's big surprised eyes were, once again, looking up to me. "We have stables?" I was just about to answer this question, when I noticed the puzzled look on his tiny little face. And soon enough came the next question. "What do stables do?" Only then I seemed to remember, that Jamie had never in his life been out of the city before. He was still looking me straight in the eyes, looking for an answer. "It's where the horses and ponies live, honey," I said, smiling at him. Jamie's big eyes grew even bigger now. "We have ponies?" "Last time I checked, we had, yes," I answered. Jamie looked out of the window again. Trying to see some ponies, I supposed. I was looking in the opposite direction myself, though. We were past the stables now, which meant we were about ten minutes away from the manor. My stomach seemed to be filled with butterflies at once. I hadn't been this nervous since I had to tell my parents about Jamie. It's been six long years since I was home last. Was everything still the way it had been before I left? No. Nothing could ever be the same again. My parents weren't here anymore, Jamie, on the other hand, was.

"Mommy, look, a castle!" I heard Jamie cry out in surprise. He had climbed in my lap and was pointing out to a big old house. "No," I corrected him. "It's not a castle. It's our house. We'll be living here from now on. Do you like it?" But I already knew the answer. I could see it in his eyes. This innocent joy only a child can possess, that I had lost years ago. It surely didn't help keeping this childish innocence, having Death Eaters as parents. No, not really. But it was going to be different for Jamie. The Dark Lord was gone for good and I was no Death Eater. I had never been one.

The carriage came to a halt and we stepped outside. The old manor brought back thousands of memories. I took Jamie by the hand, as to encourage him, but I was searching for support myself. Jamie was looking around in amazement. I had to pick him up to make sure he didn't trip and fall. This time, he didn't fight me. I carried him up the stairs, to the door, and knocked. The old manor seemed to come to life, at once. I heard footsteps from inside and one moment later I found myself looking in the face of out old butler.

"Welcome back, Miss Pansy. Welcome back," he greeted me with a deep bow. Then, his eyes fell on the little boy I was still holding. "And this must be young Master James?" I nodded, putting the "young Master" on the floor again. He was looking up bravely to the strange old man and put out his tiny little hand. "I am Jamie Parkinson. Nice to meet you, sir." Geoffrey, our butler, looked at me expectantly. I nodded and smiled. He took the boy's hand and Jamie's face lit up like the brightest star in the evening sky. "I'm Geoffrey," the old man said. "And there is no need to call me sir. Geoffrey will do just fine, sir." Then, he looked up to me again. "I arranged everything as you ordered, Miss. Tee will be served in the drawing room in…" he looked at his watch, "twenty minutes. Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss?" I took my son by the hand again. "That would be all for the moment, Geoffrey, thank you."

As I was leading my son up the stairs and towards our rooms, I felt him tugging on my sleeve again. I stopped to face him and was flooded with questions. "Who was that? Was that grandpa? Does he live here?" And once again, I was confronted with his big eyes looking at me expectantly. I sighed and kneeled down in front of him to be on his eye-level. "No, Jamie," I explained. "I already told you, that your grandparents died. That's why we had to come to England, remember? To take care of the house. Geoffrey is our butler. And yes, he does live here. And so do the house-elves, too. I'll show you, later. Just let me show you to your room, first." I began to stand up, then reconsidered and turned to look at him again. "I'm sorry nanny Marie wouldn't come with us, too. But you know what? We'll get you a new one. Or even better, we won't get you a new nanny, as you are already a big boy, aren't you? We'll get you a governess instead? It's someone who'll look after you like nanny Marie did, but who'll teach you at home, too." My precious little boy threw his arms around me, giving me a hug now. "Don't be sad, Mommy," he said. I hadn't realised that talking about my parents had caused tears to come from my eyes. "I didn't want to make you cry," he continued. "I thought, that maybe it was Daddy's Dad." This revelation came as a shock for me. I hadn't realised he'd remember. Once, when he had been three years old, he had asked me where his Daddy was. And I had told him that his Daddy lived in England. He had never asked me again. I really hadn't thought, he'd remember. I almost didn't remember myself. But then again, I hadn't thought it to be that important. How stupid of me to think so, really. "Oh, honey!" I exclaimed, hugging him back. "I'm sorry. It's not your Daddy's Dad. And he couldn't even be. Your Daddy's parents have been dead for a long time now." I stood up to lead my son to his room. Quietly, just for myself to hear, I added, "A too long time."

Heading for the nursery I led him inside, told him to sit down (which he did) and called Tany, one of our house-elves. As she appeared next to me with a pop, Jamie went back in his chair, startled. In France, we had lived only with his nanny and a maid. But he had never before seen a house-elf and this tiny little creature seemed to surprise him. However, I hadn't time to explain them to Jamie right now. So I just told him "Jamie, this is a house-elf. She will help you with changing," and gave Tany orders to do so. That had to do for the moment.

Reaching my parents' old room, I hesitated, just for a moment. There was something telling me to turn and run and hide in my old room. Something telling me, that this room belonged to them. But they were dead now. And I was the Mistress of this house now. Still, I had to fight the urge to knock before entering the room out of habit. But being in there wasn't half as bad as I had expected. No ghosts of my parents telling me, that I had no right being in this room for I had lied to them about Jamie's father. I went over to the closet and opened it. We only had time for tea before we had to leave for the funeral. I picked out one of Mother's black silk robes and changed quickly, leaving me enough time to do my hair. Mother would never have forgiven me, if I hadn't been the most elegant witch on their funeral. Then, I hesitated. Should I have? My eyes had fallen on the old jewellery-box. I opened it, feeling strangely content. "Mother will never forgive me, if I'm not the most elegant witch on her funeral," I told myself again, as if looking for some kind of support, looking down at the family jewels shining in the sunlight. I choose a single black opal, masterfully handcrafted in silver, on a silver chain. This one was perfect. Mother's spirit would be pleased, I thought.

Jamie was clad in heavy black silk robes as I reached the drawing room. Tany had already brought him down here and left for the kitchen herself. I was glad to see that Jamie wasn't afraid of her. A wizards' child afraid of house-elves was unheard of and I was pleased, that Jamie didn't seem to become the first one in history. He seemed to feel a little uneasy, though, but I could tell, that it wasn't because of the elf. "Mommy," he began, fidgeting in his seat. I looked up from my tea and sandwiches, somehow afraid to ask him to continue, but knowing that he was expecting for me to do so. "Yes, honey?" I asked him, forcing an encouraging smile on my face. "Mommy, will Daddy come to the… to the fune… to the things, too?" Oh, dear. I had no idea, how to answer this question. And the questions to come. It had been easier in France. His Daddy lived in England and couldn't come to France, that's why he didn't live with us. That was simple logic and I think that's what Jamie had thought, too. But now we were in England as well. What reason could I have given him now, should he have asked why his Daddy wouldn't come to live with us? How should I have told him, that his Daddy wouldn't be on his grandparents' funeral, because they had been enemies? Jamie had lived away from all this. He had no idea, what Death Eaters meant. He had never seen them act, like I had… "I don't know," I said quietly. "I don't know if he'll come to the funeral."

There must have been something in my voice that prevented him from questioning me further. Maybe it had been the sadness in my voice, maybe the fact that he seemed to feel it intuitively when I wasn't feeling like talking. He just climbed down from the chair he had been sitting in and came over to me. He waited until I picked him up and placed him on my lap, and then he hugged me. This gesture had something unbelievably comforting in it. A way only an innocent child could comfort someone. Just holding me tightly, his arms placed around my neck. And in this moment, I just couldn't hold myself back anymore. I had been strong for my little boy for six years now, and now that I felt weaker than I ever had in my entire life, now my little son was the strong one. We sat there, he sitting in my lap, holding me, and I, crying quietly bitter tears for my dead parents and my long lost love, the love I had denied me myself by leaving the man I loved. I cried out every single tear that I had been holding back ever since leaving England. And the only thing he said to me when I finally stopped crying, was "Don't be sad, Mommy." For a single moment I wished, he would hug me like this, forever. But reality reminded us of itself in form of Geoffrey, who came to tell us, that the carriage was waiting to take us to the funeral.

All my courage left me, when I heard this. I hadn't thought of this before, but at the funeral, there were going to be friends of my parents, of course. Old school-friends of mine, too. People, who'd guess. Who'd guess who Jamie's father was. I was more than sure, that my parents had, at some point, told them about my son, even though I knew, that they hadn't told pregnancy to be the reason for my departure. But even if they hadn't, I couldn't leave the five-years-old home. This was a risk I had to take. I just hoped that they hadn't told them who they thought the father was. If Draco was to show up at the funeral, it would have been really hard to explain this to him. We had been out on some dates at school, yes, but for me, this had all been just a public act. And I knew for sure, that he hadn't harboured any true feelings for me, either. He had just been putting up an act to please his father. He didn't know my reasons for doing this, and I had never asked him for his. But we both had known what it had been – an act and nothing more. Maybe he had been sneaking around with some secret love his father wouldn't have approved of, too? A Hufflepuff, maybe? Or even a Gryffindor? Or maybe he was just gay. That wasn't my business, so I didn't ask. In Slytherin, a secret would only be told to another person in exchange for another secret. Or, as we liked to put it: "Never give away any blackmail information on you other than for blackmail information on the other side." And I really hadn't wanted him asking me questions about my secret dates. It would have been no fun, telling him I was falling for the enemy, especially considered who his father was and how close our parents were. Of course, there was another possibility. Telling them Jamie's father was someone I had met in France and that I only had told Jamie his father lived in England to avoid further questions. There was a small chance they would believe me in spite of my son's eyes. After all, a Slytherin always had to be cunning when it came to surviving among fellow Slytherins. And revealing Jamie's father's name to them would have been as good as suicide. They would have seen it as betrayal of the highest degree. There was too much hate lost here, I didn't want my son to grow up, feeling it all around him.

I helped Jamie to the ground and took his hand. "Thank you, Geoffrey," I said with a nod towards the old man and led my son through the manor once again. He'd had to explore the house further to get to know it, but this had to wait. We were running late even so. I had been planning to arrive first at the funeral, but now I wasn't sure anymore, if we were still able to make it before everybody else. The carriage that had brought us home had been late to pick us up. I would have preferred going to the cathedral right away, because of the delay, but we had to change first and I couldn't make Jamie go to a funeral without having something in his stomach. The trip to England had been long, the trip to the manor as well. And he was only five years old. I had to consider his well being above all.

The black carriage was waiting for us at the manor steps. A black carriage with black horses. Tradition, that's what it was. The carriage of the mourners. I had only once travelled with it before, on the day of my grandfather's funeral. I didn't like this carriage. It had an aura of death all around it. But it was tradition. I had to strongly remind myself of this before I helped Jamie in and followed him inside. Somehow, he must have sensed it, too, as he seated himself next to me snuggling up to me. He seemed to be looking for my protection, but for protection from what? From the feeling of death in the air? I hadn't felt it this close since… I closed my eyes in pain. Pictures from the war were coming to me from years ago. Memories of a past I had thought I had left behind for good, six years ago. But now, in this carriage, on the way to my parents' funeral, now they got to me again and made me realise that I had to face my past again. And not only this. I had to face it sooner than I had expected. On the funeral.

As the carriage moved on, I suddenly found myself thinking, how odd it was. The fact, that my parents hadn't totally disowned me, even though I had disgraced the family name by getting pregnant unmarried. In spite of them sending me in exile to France, I remained their sole heiress, as it turned out to be. I hadn't counted on that. And the only reason for this, as far as I could think of a reason, could have been the same one, that had caused them to drive me away in the first place. Jamie. He was a Parkinson. And the only one to carry on the family name. My father had been his parents' only son and I had been an only child. There were no male Parkinsons left save James. My parents had found it odd, that I named my son this. But they were easily calmed by hinting on the irony that this name had hidden in itself. I had, of course, other reasons for naming him James, but there was no way I would have told my parents this, was there? No. Not, if I wanted my son and his father alive. Being as it was, both were alive. At least I thought that Jamie's father was alive, too. Six years had been a long time, especially because the first two of them had been years of war. This was a possibility, too. He could have been killed in the war. But I didn't really believe in that. We would have heard from his death, had he really died. News like this would have reached us, even though my parents hadn't written me about him. Had he died, they would have written me about it as soon as they'd have found out, there was no doubt in that.

Jamie was holding on to me, as if his life depended on this. Maybe it did, but maybe it was only because of the stench of death all around us. I felt goosebumps on my back, too. I remembered the ride to Grandfather's funeral. I had felt as uneasy as Jamie and I did now. I, too, had tried to snuggle up to Mother. The difference was, that she hadn't let me. But then again, I had been eleven years old back then, a big enough girl to not show any fear before a simple carriage ride, as Father had put it. This hadn't made me feel any better, though. Placing my arm around Jamie's shoulders and drawing him nearer, I turned to look out of the window. We were passing by many houses, the same houses I had observed on my previous ride in this carriage. Only that it had been winter back then, and now we had summer. But this was the only difference I was able to find. Closing my eyes I could almost see the three of us together, Mother and I sitting on this side, Father sitting just across of Mother. I could almost feel how terrified I had been of the death that hung in the air. If I listened very carefully, I could almost hear myself as a little girl, asking my parents, why I had to attend on Grandfather's funeral even though he had never really liked me. He had always made it very clear, that he would have preferred my Father to have a proper male heir. Daughters were a luxury one could allow themselves to have after one had managed to have a male child for a heir, as he always had liked to say. And he had seemed to enjoy saying this even more when I was there to hear this, too. It was only to please Father that I had gone to the funeral anyway. To please Father and to not dishonour the family. Father would have been outraged, had I dared to try and stay home. He wouldn't have harmed me, of course, but a shortcut in pocket money seemed as cruel a punishment back then, as would have seemed the Cruciatus later in life when I was old enough to know what it meant. We passed by more and more houses on our ride and the carriage was going so fast now that it seemed to be flying. Jamie was clinging on to me like he had never before. I was wishing for this ride to end, but it didn't. Not for some time, that is, even though it seemed to us like an eternity. 

When we finally reached the cathedral, Jamie was out of the carriage before I could even blink an eye. Almost two hours had we been forced to sit in there, I really couldn't blame him for wanting to get out of there. I, too, didn't waste time to climb out. Looking at the cathedral, I shivered. Last time I had been here, Mother had asked me, when she would be able to enter the cathedral for my wedding. It had been on a Sunday, two weeks before my departure from England. Now, she would never be able to do that, even if she wanted. Thinking of this made me even sadder than I had been before. Back then, I hadn't had the heart to tell her, that if I even ever was to get married, I was sure that she would have avoided coming to my wedding herself. I had not dared to say this. Because there had been only one man I would ever have been willing to marry and this wasn't the same one Mother had been thinking of. Truth to be told, my parents used to hate the man I loved. Well, they had their reasons, I won't deny that, but this didn't mean I had to hate him as well. I had let myself be fooled into doing this for a long time. It had only been in our sixth year at Hogwarts that I had really let myself get to know him and it had been then, that I fell for him. There was nothing my parents could have done to make me love him less or even hate him again. I looked at our son again. I had never told him what his Daddy's name was. Jamie hadn't asked me, either. For him, his Daddy had always been just that. His Daddy. Sometimes I wondered if he even realised that his Daddy was supposed to have a proper name, too. But for the time being, I was more than glad that he didn't know. Little boys tend to see their fathers as heroes and if anyone was to ask him who his father was, I doubted that he would have denied them an answer. He didn't know that it would have been unwise to pout his Daddy's name out in this company. How should a child have known about a war that had ended before he even turned two years old? How should he have known about the house rivalry of a school he only knew as "Mommy's old school"? We had lived in France for his whole life and I hadn't even thought about returning to England. James' name wasn't even down in Hogwarts' list, he was listed for Beaubaxton… Which reminded me that I had to write to both schools first thing in the morning. If we were to stay in England for good now, and we were, then there was no way I was sending my son to school overseas. Even though he wasn't going to attend school for another six years, the school lists had to be taken care of as soon as possible.

I crouched down to make sure Jamie was looking flawless. Looking him right in the eyes, I found myself fingering my wand, hidden in my left sleeve. There was this feeling of uneasiness again. Again, I found myself thinking of his traitorous eyes. His eyes were the only thing about him that was able to give us, give me away. I had to fight the urge to cast a spell, altering his eyes. But if I did it once, I would have had to do this every time we met someone and I couldn't put my son through this… I withdrew my hand from my wand and stood up again. This was it. No way back. Taking a deep breath, I took Jamie by the hand and we moved along to the cathedral. I hadn't noticed the other carriage before. But now that it came to a halt on the same place our carriage had stood on just a few moments before, I suddenly remembered the sound of horse hooves behind our carriage. And the fact, that the other carriage had waited behind the church corner while I had been focused on Jamie. Had whoever had been sitting in there been watching us? Had he seen me toying with my wand? Did he suspect anything? I didn't dare to stop and look who had arrived.

"Pansy?" I hadn't been mistaken. It was a man's voice behind me. I stopped, and so did Jamie. There were footsteps behind us and then, they came to a halt right behind us. Slowly, I turned. I hadn't been mistaken. I found myself looking in the icy grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. I think I flinched at the look of him. The war, or its end, hadn't left him without its marks. His hair had always been fair, but as for now, it was whiter than snow. He also had a big scar on his left cheek. But even so he didn't look old, just mature, as if the scars had forced the little boy I knew to grow up into a wealthy young man. But his eyes were different now. They had adopted a haunted look I hadn't ever seen in them, before. The eyes of a man who had seen his father die, who had seen his father sacrifice his own life just to ensure that his son would live. This was a dept beyond repaying. Mother had written to me about it right after it occurred. Lucius had thrown himself before Draco to take the curse shot at his son he had not been able to counter. He had died in Draco's arms. This had taken place about two months after my departure. I hadn't had a chance to speak to him, to give him my condolences. And beside all this, I didn't know how much he knew about my son and about the story I had told my parents about my pregnancy. I swallowed hard. "Draco?"

He smiled. His smile was the same I knew from my days at school. It made me feel a little calmer, but only a little. "So you d o remember me, he said, his mouth curving into the trademark smirk I knew so well. "Even though you never wrote me and never answered any of our letters." I knew, what he meant. I had received many owls from my old friends over the first months, but I hadn't answered any of them, wanting to leave this life behind me, to start a whole new life with my son. "I'm sorry, Draco," I answered, wanting to hide my eyes, as I couldn't look at him while lying to him. Or no. I wasn't lying. I just wasn't telling the whole truth… "I just…It was really hard at first, getting adjusted to a new country, new friends and all of this. I just didn't have time to answer them and then when I had time, I was too tired to even think about reading or writing letters. I must have them all somewhere, but I haven't even read them. By the time I was in shape to write, it didn't seem to have any point anymore, as it had been months since I received the letters." Draco eyed me curiously, but didn't tell anything. "So, how have you been lately? I heard about Lucius. My parents owled me as soon as it happened. I'm so sorry. I should have written you right away, but I thought that this needed to be said personally and anyway, the only ones I was writing to, back then, were my parents." As I mentioned his Father's name, Draco froze. I hadn't realised that this would still affect him that much. But my Father hadn't been killed by the attempt to save me, either. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned this," I said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, looked me right in the eyes, and I knew, that he would never be able to put this in the past. And then, he said something I never would have thought to hear from him. "It should have been me…"

Standing there, talking to Draco, it all made me feel, as if the last six years had never happened. Though I couldn't feel like this for long, as the last years reminded me of themselves in the form of a five-years-old boy tugging on my sleeve once again and asking demandingly "Who is this?" Which itself had the effect that Draco was reminded of the boy's presence, as well, and he, too, looked curiously at the child. "And this must be the reason why we heard so little from you?" he asked, not removing his eyes from the boy. "Oh, yes. Yes, he is. And this is Draco, an old friend of mine. We went to school together," I answered them both. Jamie's eyes lit up at once. "You knew Mommy as a kid? Really? I'm Jamie Parkinson, nice to meet you, sir!" He held his hand out for Draco to take. Which the older man did. "Oh yes, I knew! And if you'd like to, I can tell you all about your Mommy as girl. Our parents were friends, so that I knew her even before school. And we were both in the same year and house, too. Both Slytherins. I can tell you…" I scowled at him. "You will do nothing of the sort, Draco. I am t r y i n g to raise him to a sensible young man. When you start to tell all the old school stories, you'll ruin my authority forever!" He looked at me, surprised. And the next moment, we both broke into hysterical laughter, my son standing between the two of us, looking back and forth between us as if we'd gone insane and asking "What's an aut… au… the auto-thing?" I tried to pull myself together again. I shouldn't have laughed at my parents' funeral. OK, the funeral itself hadn't started yet, but I shouldn't have been able to laugh this soon after their deaths! I kneeled down to Jamie. "That means, that you won't listen to me anymore." He looked me right in the eyes, surprised. "Why would I not listen?" That brought a smile back on my lips. "Well, hopefully you'll never find out," I said mockingly. But deep down, I really meant this. Hopefully he'll never find out some things I had done.

Wanting to change the subject, I took Jamie's hand and stood up again. Then, I turned towards Draco. "Isn't Narcissa coming?" Draco shook his head quietly. Too quietly for my liking. "She never leaves the house anymore. After Father's funeral, she only sits home and waits for her own death to arrive. She even tried to kill herself twice. But I don't want to talk about this right now," he said with a meaningful look in the direction of my son. There was an awkward silence between us. Something that had never happened before. The scars that six years of not conversing had left on a friendship were painfully clear to see. I started to walk towards the ancient cathedral, leading my son by the hand, shooting one last question towards Draco: "Coming?"

We walked the remaining way towards the old cathedral in almost utter silence, the only sound to be heard being our steps on the ancient cobblestone path. Even Jamie was uncharacteristically silent while approaching the church. Someone who did not know any of us might have mistaken us for a happy young family. I thank the gods there weren't any nosy people around on such an hour. People tend to visit the church in the morning and even that on Sundays. A Tuesday afternoon is really not the time that people would spend hanging around a church. If they aren't there for some special occasion like a wedding – or a funeral. Like us.

Entering the cathedral, we were first welcomed by cool air that had been forced to look for shelter in the church by the heat that had already conquered the whole kingdom. Walking down the aisle together with Draco, I couldn't help but grin. Mother would have given everything, even her life, to see me walking down the aisle with Draco. And in the end, it took her death to bring us to doing this, even if it wasn't in the way Mother had wished it to be. But that was as close to her wish coming true, as it ever would get, so hopefully she was pleased to see "the young family" together, or, at least, to have them together on her funeral. What Father would have thought, I didn't even dare to wonder about. He had always been a very firm person, even if he really loved me a lot. Even if he tried to hide it the best he could. And I had disappointed him. I couldn't possibly blame him for sending me away, for never visiting or letting Mother visit me. I *had* disgraced the family name by having a child without being married!

As we reached the coffins, I stopped to pick up Jamie. The boy had never seen his grandparents and I wanted to show them to him on this very last occasion, at least. We looked at their faces. They seemed so peaceful, just as if they weren't really dead but just dreaming. I think that they knew that they were going to die and just let it happen. The little boy in my arms seemed to be thinking in similar directions. "Why are they sleeping in boxes?" he asked. "Isn't that uncom… un…" Seeing that he had trouble with a long and difficult word again, I tried to help him out. "Uncomfortable?" He nodded. "No, they aren't," I explained. "They are not sleeping. You remember, I told you that your Grandfather and Grandmother have died? That's why we made that really long trip on that ship to get here, remember? And people who are dead often look like sleeping people. This was your Grandmother, remember? The one who always sent you lots of sweets for your birthdays? And this was your Grandfather. They were my parents..."

I hadn't noticed the tears before, but Jamie, apparently, had, as he put his little arms really tight around my neck in a hug. "Mommy, please, don't cry." Draco must have noticed, too. He put an arm around me and guided me to the seats in the front row. He helped me sit down, then took a seat right next to me and handed me a handkerchief. I took it and nodded in thank. There were Slytherins coming to this funeral and the worst thing someone who was a Slytherin herself could do, was to show any emotions in front of her fellow Slytherins. And this included crying on the funeral of one's parents. Draco was an exception. We were childhood friends, we had known each other for as long as we both could remember. It was OK to cry ion front of him. But even such weaknesses weren't eligible for a Slytherin. I could hear the sound of hooves on the old gravel-way. Draco conjured up a mirror for me and I tidied my make-up with a hasty spell. Then, I was ready to face my past.


End file.
